


It All Started With a Pint

by hazel_lannister



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15624033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_lannister/pseuds/hazel_lannister
Summary: Draco plans to move to France with his mother after the war but when he is reunited with Harry both of their plans quickly change.





	It All Started With a Pint

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I saw this post on tumblr “cuddly Draco” and I simply had to make a full fic out of it so I know it’s not actually my idea entirely but yeah. Hope you enjoy.

  
  


Harry inhaled deeply through his nose as he steeled himself to walk through the iron gates. Their size itself was foreboding, nevermind the fact that serpents seemed to decorate every part, glaring distastefully down at Harry. 

 

Although they were nothing compared to the horrors that had occurred within the infamous home. It had never struck Harry as a home though. Manor was a more accurate name. 

 

Walking up the steps as he fiddled with the spare wand in his muggle hoodie, he clutched the serpentine knocker and struck, a solid sound emanating from the dark wooden door. 

 

As the knocker hit the door for the second time, it swung open, revealing the sharp features of Draco Malfoy. However, the piercing gaze and hardened jawline had softened, and though dark bags laid beneath deep silver eyes, he still looked somehow gentler, no longer as broken as he had appeared at the trial. The trial during which Harry spoke on his behalf. 

 

“Potter?” Malfoy asked, surprisingly not accusatory, the question weighed down by exhaustion. 

 

“Hi,” Harry began awkwardly, not knowing where to start after the month that had passed since the trial. 

 

“I’d invite you in but the Ministry is seizing the manor at the end of the week, by which I need to be gone and Mother has already moved along to France… what do you need, Potter?” Malfoy asked cutting himself off as though embarrassed to have spilled so much, brows creasing slightly and Harry could swear that his gaze traveled briefly down his body for a moment. Perhaps he was judging the muggle wear. 

 

“Sorry, I just… wanted to give you this,” Harry said, fishing out the wand and holding it awkwardly out to Malfoy, who seemed hesitant to take it, searching for the trick or hex that was waiting if he took it. 

 

When Harry’s hand never dropped, he slowly closed his hand around the wand, fingers brushing against Harry’s and sending heat through his system. 

 

“Thank you... Potter,” Malfoy said, glancing down at his wand before meeting Harry’s gaze again, his expression unreadable as his eyes seemed to be searching for a reason. 

 

“Of course,” he replied, nervously scratching at the back of his head. He knew he was dragging this for too long and that Malfoy had more important things to do. But the thought of his former rival moving to a place Harry would likely never see him again, after all that they had been through, filled Harry with an inexplicable regret. “Um, so, Malfoy, when you’re less busy, if you want to, I mean, would you want to grab a pint sometime?” Harry managed to get out, words failing him not for the first time in his life. 

 

A strange half-smile brushed over the blonde’s face, and he nodded. “I think I would like that.. You can owl me tomorrow, I should be finished by then,” he said, glancing down at his robes that held the wand. “Thank you for bringing this back to me, Potter. You still surprise me,” he said and before Harry could inquire as to what  _ that  _ had meant, he had already closed the door. 

 

… 

  
  


“Are you going to France too, then?” Harry asked before finishing the dregs of his pint. Malfoy was nearly finished with his firewhiskey and Harry was feeling slightly tipsy enough to be relaxed. 

 

Malfoy was actually decent company with an entertaining sense of humor now that Harry knew that most of his insults were not with malintent.

 

“I suppose I must,” Malfoy began, downing the remainder of his drink as well. “The Ministry’s frozen our assets and with Father in Azkaban… we have a relative willing to let us stay until we can get back on our feet. I don’t look forward to leaving London though, I’d considered getting a flat with Pansy…” he trailed off when Harry looked sat up suddenly. 

 

“Are you and Parkinson… still together?” Harry asked before he could stop himself, alcohol removing inhibition. Malfoy surprised him when he didn’t respond, rather doubling over as delicious laughter escaped him. Harry’s chest tightened involuntarily. Harry raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, failing to see the joke of it all. 

 

Malfoy slowly calmed down, breathing deeply with a surprisingly easy grin on his face, one  _ directed _ at Harry with such ease that a funny flutter occured deep in his stomach; he wanted to make him laugh again. 

 

“You weren’t joking, were you, Potter,” he said, shaking his head as his brows creased with wonder. As quickly as the look had appeared, it was replaced by a mischievous smirk. “She was lacking a bit in  _ equipment _ for my tastes,” he said, chuckling again as his eyes slid down Harry’s form, and the Gryffindor felt distinctly exposed, though he couldn’t tell whether or not he liked it. 

 

“Sorry, I hadn’t realized,” Harry finally managed to find his voice again. 

 

“Don’t worry about it, Potter, cock isn’t for everyone,” he said, smirking once more as though enjoying the game of making Harry feel as uncomfortable as possible. 

 

“Can’t imagine why,” he muttered under his breath and saw Malfoy’s eyes widen fractionally before the sly smile resumed its place on his face. 

 

The subject was blessedly dropped then and the night slowly drew to a close with easy banter, aided by the alcohol.

 

“You’re shockingly not bad company, Potter,” Malfoy said as they both stood to leave. 

 

“Sorry to disappoint. You’re not so bad when you’re not being a prick,” he said, crooked smile taking over his face. 

 

“Oh, but Potter, I thought you said you liked pricks,” he said, grinning victoriously as Harry flushed once more. 

 

“I may be warming up to this one,” he finally replied, opening the door for Draco without thinking before following after him. 

 

It was nearly one in the morning and a light drizzle sprinkled down on them as they walked to the nearest apparation point. 

 

“Would you want to do this again, Malfoy?” he asked hesitantly, not ready for this to be their final departure. 

 

“I think I’d like that… Harry,” the blonde replied, the name sounding foreign yet so… intimate coming from his mouth. He gently squeezed Harry’s forearm with a strange sort of smile and then he was gone. 

 

…

 

Harry looked up, startled as Malfoy half sat, half collapsed into the seat across from him. With a heaving sigh, he waved the bartender and with a short, “Whatever he’s having,” nodding at Harry, dismissed him once more. 

 

“Long day?” Harry asked, more worry seeping into his voice than he would have liked. 

 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I finally shipped all of the antiques from the house so I should be ready to move by tomorrow…” He trailed off as the server brought him his drink, pausing to take a long swig that Harry was grateful for as he followed the line of his long, exposed neck, tendons working as he drank deeply. 

 

“Are you still going to France?” Harry blurted, surprising himself almost as much as it did Malfoy. What was more surprising was how much he hoped the answer was no. 

 

“Unless I find another option by, let’s see, tomorrow, it would appear so, Potter,” he said, shrugging before he took another long drink. 

 

“We could get a flat,” Harry said, following his pattern of voicing nearly every thought that entered his mind, and frowned as Draco choked on his drink. 

 

“What?” he said, still sputtering into his napkin. 

 

“I just mean, I was going to look for a roommate anyway, put up an ad or something because Ron and ‘Mione are already living together and I’m still not used to living alone. I’ve been staying with them for almost a month so I’m sure they’d be thrilled…” he trailed off once more, inwardly rolling his eyes at his rambling. 

 

Malfoy sat back slowly, eying Harry as though searching for how serious he was about the proposal. He had finally stopped coughing and gingerly set his drink on the table between them. 

 

“And you want me… to be your roommate,” he said incredulously. “And what makes you think we wouldn’t kill each other?” 

 

Harry frowned at the question. He was willing to put aside the past, and it seemed that Malfoy had as well… 

 

“I think we could be friends,” Harry said plainly. Malfoy cocked his head slightly, chewing a lip thoughtfully and Harry swallowed thickly. 

 

“Alright, Potter. What have I got to lose?” he said more seeming to himself than to Harry and broke out into a heartstopping grin. Perhaps this deal wasn’t the greatest idea if Harry couldn’t keep his dick in check, he thought to himself with a mental eyeroll. 

 

Shaking himself of his thoughts, Harry returned Malfoy’s grin and glanced at the table where Malfoy had outstretched a hand, waiting to seal the deal. 

 

Briefly, Harry’s thoughts returned to a time nearly eight years before when the same pale hand but smaller had waited for his own. He would not reject him this time. 

 

Glancing into stormy eyes that seemed to flicker with hesitance when Harry waited a moment but the worry dissipated when Harry clutched his hand firmly, giving a shake before slowly pulling his hand back. And when Harry smiled, Draco smiled back. 

 

…

 

Two months after moving into their flat, they had formed a surprisingly comfortable routine, Draco training to be a Healer for St. Mungo’s as Harry trained to be an Auror. 

 

“I brought take-away,” Harry called down the hall to Draco’s room as he placed the bag on the kitchen counter. 

 

He smiled to himself as he washed his hands and heard Draco half running into the kitchen. 

 

“Thank fuck, I’m starved!” Draco said as he bounded into the kitchen and Harry heard the rustling of the take-away bag. “You really are a Saint, Potter,” Draco said hugging him from behind before taking out plates for the two of them. 

 

Harry had been surprised to find out that Draco was one of the most physical people he had ever known, especially around those he was comfortable with. Harry had never had a male friend that had no reservations when it came to casual hugs, sitting just a touch closer than most people. 

 

If you had told Harry a year ago he would find Draco cute in any way, he probably would have had an aneurysm. But now… the way Draco grabbed his arm when he was excited about something he was talking about, such as the new potion they were developing at the hospital --something that went far over Harry’s head--, or the way he would grab his hand to show him something, or when the other night he had rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as they watched a film. 

 

It was distracting to constantly have to swallow this attraction that Harry now knew went beyond sexuality, especially when the cause of said attraction was constantly sitting so their elbows brushed or squeezing his forearm in a way that made Harry’s heart beat harder… 

 

“So, what are we watching tonight?” Draco asked, snapping Harry out of his reverie by handing him a plate. 

 

“How’s  _ Bond, James Bond, _ ” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows at Draco as he impersonated the cool voice of the agent. 

 

“You’re a dork,” Draco said fondly, brushing his arm as he went to put the movie in and sit on the couch. Harry watched him go, trying and failing to keep his eyes from straying to the tightly-clad arse. That was another thing Harry had noticed after sharing a space with Draco. He was almost always impeccably dressed, well-fitting robes showing off the body that was no longer gaunt as it had been during the war and had filled out quite nicely, if you asked Harry. 

 

Not that he would ever admit as much. 

 

Harry sat down next to Draco on the couch, large enough that they could each sit with plenty of space for themselves, but smiled when Draco scooted closer after Harry sat down. 

 

Draco dexterously ate at his chicken and rice, much more gracefully using chopsticks than Harry would ever be. The theme music came on with the opening titles and Harry playfully nudged Draco’s shoulder with his own in time to the music. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes but seemed unable to keep the smile off his face and the easy grin warmed Harry’s heart, and he gave a lopsided smirk in return. Harry quickly looked down when he realized how heartsick he must have looked, shoveling a large bite of pad thai into his mouth. 

 

He slurped indecently as the last noodle finally made its way into his mouth, knowing the rise he could easily get out of Draco. 

 

The Slytherin huffed with an exaggerated eye roll. “You are the worst kind of slob, Potter,” he said, taking his thumb and wiping a bit of the sauce that had collected at his lower lip, pulling the digit into his mouth after he had swiped it across Harry’s lips. 

 

Harry hoped his sharp intake of breath had not been audible, but Draco didn’t comment on it either way. Needing a distraction, Harry said, “And you love me for it,” his voice coming out huskier than he had intended. 

 

Draco gave a soft smile and turned back to the film but didn’t deny it. 

 

A loud bang signified the shot of a muggle gun, causing Draco to jump nearly out of his seat, even though he’d seen such weapons in other muggle films Harry had forced him to watch. 

 

Draco settled back into his seat, smoothing his shirt like a cat pretending not to have just fallen and Harry bit back a smile as Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Muggle weapons.”

 

Another bang went off and Draco did not jump although his hand instinctively grabbed and squeezed at Harry’s forearm, causing the Gryffindor to cease breathing for a moment, worried that the slightest movement would make him let go. 

 

When the action sequence had ended, after what had felt like only seconds but was probably longer, Draco gingerly removed his fingers from Harry’s arm as though just realizing what he was doing. He didn’t touch Harry again until once again the muggles were firing their ludicrously loud weapons at each other and Draco flinched. 

 

The blonde moved his hand so that it rested on Harry’s thigh, just above his knee, and squeezed every once in a while when a gunshot was particularly loud. After a moment’s deliberation, Harry slowly draped his arm over the back of the sofa, the crook of his elbow resting behind Draco’s head. 

 

As if he had been waiting for that small invitation, Draco shifted closer until he was flush against Harry’s side, head resting on his shoulder. He didn’t look at Harry, eyes firmly fixed on the movie but Harry couldn't care less about the plot. 

 

He was transfixed by Draco’s pale lashes that seemed almost translucent in the bluish light made by the television, visible only now because Harry had never been so close to the other’s face. He was tempted to feel the sharp edge of his jaw, brush the fine stubble there with his fingertips but he resisted as always. 

 

Draco sighed and closed his eyes, snuggling closer into Harry’s chest and Harry’s arm that had been resting on the sofa instinctively fell to Draco’s shoulders, holding him close. Draco’s lips twitched in a sleepy smile and shifted until he was lying with his feet on the couch and his head in Harry’s lap. 

 

Harry left his arm on Draco’s back, slowly tracing the curve of his spine, feeling the lean muscle beneath the thin shirt, as Draco’s breathing deepened and Harry knew he had fallen asleep. 

 

Draco had been training six days a week for the past month and Harry could see it was wearing on him, even though he was training to do something he loved. For this reason, he let him sleep, gently stroking the fine blonde hair, marveling at the soft, silky texture. 

 

He let Draco sleep on him for the remainder of the movie and even fifteen minutes after the credits had ended, but when he too began to nod off, he knew he had to get them both to bed, knowing how much his back would ache if he slept in the position he was in now. 

 

Gently, he squeezed Draco’s shoulder, shaking it slightly before standing. 

 

“Draco,” murmured, squeezing his shoulder again and Draco stretched like a cat, burying his face into the couch and groaning. “Come on, up we go,” he said, gently lifting him so that Harry was carrying him bridal style. Harry had gained a lot of muscle with his Auror training and Draco was still lean as ever-- in an incredibly attractive way if you asked Harry-- and easily carried him to Draco’s room, gently tucking him under the covers. 

 

“Goodnight, Dray,” he said, gently brushing his lips to the blonde’s forehead before leaving the room. 

 

…

 

“Morning, Harry,” Draco said as his arms circled Harry’s waist from behind, startling the Gryffindor out of his thoughts. “What’s for breakfast?”

 

“Bangers and eggs,” Harry replied, turning the sausages as he tried not to notice that Draco had not removed his arms. 

 

“Delicious,” Draco murmured in Harry’s ear, causing him to shiver, before letting Harry out of the embrace and sitting at their counter. “I’m getting lunch with Blaise today, want to come?” he asked as Harry summoned plates and split the breakfast for them both. 

 

Harry didn’t respond immediately, searching for a way out of it though he had no excuses. Ron and Hermione were busy and he had actually been hoping to spend a quiet day with Draco. 

 

Draco ploughed on. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Pansy is busy with her new boy toy and it will be more fun with you there,” Draco said, lower lip plumping in a slight pout and Harry knew he was toast. “Please…” Draco said and Harry heaved a sigh in defeat. 

 

“Alright but if he starts commenting on my sex life, I swear to Merlin,” Harry said and Draco held up his hands placatingly. 

 

“He’ll be on his best behavior. Now come on, I’m ravenous,” he replied, grabbing Harry’s hand as he levitated the plates to the table. 

 

Harry smiled and squeezed Draco’s hand, warm and soft in his own, and rolled his eyes to himself as he followed. 

 

…

 

“Well, well, Potter, glad to see you’ve filled out quite nicely,” Blaise said as he scooted to provide Harry and Draco with room in his side of the booth, Pansy and her new man seated on the other side. 

 

Harry’s cheeks heated and he glanced briefly to Draco who quickly rolled his eyes. “Good to see you too, Blaise,” Draco replied, beginning to sit in the vacated area next to Blaise but was cut short by Zabini reaching for Harry’s hand and guiding him into the seat. 

 

Again, Harry glanced questioningly back at Draco who shrugged in turn. 

 

“Aw, Draco, I thought you didn’t mind sharing,” Zabini said, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as his gaze never left Harry’s, winking once before turning to the rest of the table.

 

Draco took the seat to Harry’s right, face flushed for a reason Harry couldn’t fathom, sitting closer than necessary as he always did but that could be attributed to the small booth. 

 

“Aw Potter, I won’t bite,” Blaise said, turning to Harry once more as he noticed Draco’s thigh pressed against his own. Shyly, Harry moved closer, giving a sheepish smile to the rest of the table. 

 

“Hate to agree with Blaise on anything,” Pansy interjected, “but whatever you’re up to now suits you. Draco tells us you’re training to be an Auror, you’d think after the life you’ve had you’d be tired of the danger,” she said with eyes that seemed to stare straight through to his secrets in a way that made Harry’s blood run cold. 

 

“Not the danger, Parkinson, but the world never runs out of bad people. I would imagine you of all people would know that,” Harry replied, arching an eyebrow, leaving the table staring at him with mouths agape before Blaise broke out into surprised laughter. 

 

“Ah, pretty and a smart mouth, Potter. I’m impressed,” Zabini said, nudging Harry with his shoulder in a way that was more playful than Harry was comfortable with but just about anything was better than the awkward silence. 

 

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but thankfully, Draco saved him the trouble. 

 

“Yes, he really is the whole package,” the blonde replied, threading his fingers casually through Harry’s where his hand rested on his knee. Harry turned to him, both in surprise and gratitude, but Draco wasn’t looking at him, instead addressing the opposite side of the table. “Speaking of packages,” Draco continued, one of Harry’s favorite smirks upon his face, “How are things with you and Edward?” 

 

Pansy appeared relieved for the change of subject, glancing wearily at Harry from the corner of her eye before plastering a stunning smile onto her face, cold and composed, but Harry had long since gathered that this was how Slytherins were in uncomfortable situations. 

 

“We started moving into the new apartment yesterday, should be completely settled by the end of tomorrow,” she said, a smile that appeared far more genuine gracing her rouge lips as her eyes softened looking at Edward. 

 

Edward’s baby blues twinkled as he grinned back, and Harry felt a twinge of jealousy curling deep in the pit of his stomach but it was quickly transformed into an excited flutter as Draco squeezed his hand, almost unconsciously. 

 

“I’m glad you’re so happy together,” Draco said fondly, his thumb gently stroking the back of Harry’s hand, and with that small movement, he made the entire lunch worth it. 

 

…

 

Harry pulled on his coat as the group stepped out of the restaurant, Pansy and Edward leading the group by a few paces as Draco, Harry, and Blaise trailed behind in their trio. 

 

They reached an intersection and the trio stopped, Pansy and her lover already having said their goodbyes with an acute inability to keep their “fuck me” eyes off of each other. 

 

“Well Potter, you turned out to be a lot better company than I expected,” Blaise said, sweeping his gaze from Harry’s face to his feet and back again, leaving Harry distinctly warmer than a moment before.

 

As Harry began to shuffle out of the way so that Draco and Zabini could make their goodbyes, Blaise pulled Harry into a lingering hug that left Harry feeling even more on the spot. 

 

“Draco,” he said, clasping his hand for a half hug before winking one last time at Harry and walking off. 

 

“Well,” Harry stated awkwardly, trying to wrap his mind around the afternoon. “He was...friendlier than I anticipated.” 

 

Draco scoffed and began to walk in no direction in particular, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Fucking wanker,” Harry heard him mutter under his breath. 

 

“Aw, Draco he was just trying to test my boundaries, he didn’t get to me, don’t worry,” Harry said, pulling Draco’s shoulder to stop and face him. 

 

“Yes of course, Potter,  _ your _ boundaries,” Draco said, scoffing once more. He sounded petulant, almost… jealous. But that was neither here nor there. 

 

He began walking once more in a direction that didn’t exactly lead to an apparation point nor their flat, and Harry hurried to catch up to him. “Um, Dray, where are we going?” he asked, sounding even to himself like a child. 

 

“Fuck, sorry,” Draco said slowing his pace so that Harry could keep up more easily; even though Harry was taller, Draco had long, slim legs (that Harry had often admired) that allowed him to walk at a quick, superior pace. “I need to return these to the library, and I was hoping to check out some more this afternoon. You mind joining me?” he asked, silver eyes kind once more, frustration from earlier out of his face. 

 

“Brilliant,” Harry said and they resumed their stride side by side to the library. 

 

…

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked, placing a warm hand on Draco’s feet that rested in his lap. 

 

“You just did,” Draco replied without looking up from his book, not seeing the eye roll Harry threw at him. 

 

“Why were you so cold with Blaise earlier? I thought you were looking forward to seeing your friends,” Harry said, placing his own book on the coffee table before beginning to massage Draco’s socked feet. 

 

Secretly, he didn’t only do it for Draco’s own pleasure or to encourage him to keep resting them in his lap, but also because he enjoyed the warmth that always came with Draco’s touch, no matter how small. 

 

Draco hummed quietly in pleasure and closed his eyes, leaning back and pushing his feet further into Harry’s lap. “Blaise can be… well, you saw today, he’s a real flirt, and I didn’t want him to make you uncomfortable,” Draco added as an afterthought, sounding almost defensive. 

 

“I see,” Harry murmured, fingers still working at Draco’s feet and alternately traveling upward to squeeze at his ankles or calves. “You were looking out for me,” he said, face pulling into a smirk. 

 

“Exactly, Potter, I knew you had at least a couple brain cells left,” Draco replied sleepily.

 

They sat in a comfortable quiet for some time, Draco nearly seeming to drift off to sleep judging by his deep breathing, when Harry gently squeezed and nudged his leg. 

 

“You ought to get some rest, your final exams are this week,” he said and Draco emitted a pitiful groan. Resolutely, he sat up, pulling his feet away from Harry and the Gryffindor immediately mourned to loss of warmth. 

 

Harry stood a moment later, following Draco to the hallway with the bedrooms. 

 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco said, pulling Harry into a hug because that was just the way he was with everyone, always one for physical proximity, Harry reminded himself as he tried and failed not to linger in the hug, not to bury his face into Draco’s neck and smell his scent and feel his warmth seeping into his core. 

 

But Draco seemed just as hesitant to end the embrace as he was. Without thinking, Harry let his lips feather along Draco’s neck for half a moment before finally pulling away. “Night, Dray,” he said, closing his door behind him. 

 

…

 

It took a long time for Harry to get to sleep, but he eventually got there after running through every encounter with Draco he’d had that day. 

 

He fell into a deep sleep, dreams filled with blonde hair and what he could swear involved Hagrid giving Blaise a piggyback ride, when he was awoken by a shaking of his arm. 

 

“Wha--” Harry asked groggily, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand when he was stopped by a hand on his arm. 

 

“Relax,” Draco whispered, “it’s just me.” Harry, still not fully awake, squinted up at him in the darkness. 

 

“Dray?” he asked concerned. “You alright, what’s wrong?” he said, worry now seeping into his voice as he reached for his wand. 

 

“Can’t sleep,” Draco murmured. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and with this, slid into the other side of the bed. 

 

“What are you--” Harry began, worry melding into fear. He couldn’t be here, in Harry’s bed while so many thoughts of what they ought to be doing shot through his head, while his pants suddenly felt a little too tight, while he felt entirely exposed without a shirt on…

 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Draco asked quietly, almost sounding like a child afraid of a thunderstorm. “Sleep better with you around.” 

 

Harry nodded before remembering Draco most likely couldn’t see it and murmuring his assent. 

 

They were facing each other, far too close and yet not close enough and Harry could feel the small puffs of Draco’s breath on his cheeks. Convincing himself it was to help Draco sleep, he hesitantly ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, massaging his scalp before raking through gently with his nails. 

 

Draco’s response was immediate; he melted into Harry, curling up closer so that his head was in Harry’s chest. Harry continued to play with the fine, platinum hair until he finally was pulled under once more, sleeping better than he had ever remembered. 

 

…

 

When Harry awoke, he was unsure of his surroundings because he hadn’t woken up with his arms around another body since the hunt for horcruxes and back then he and his friends slept together for warmth. 

 

Still unaware of his current situation, Harry tightened his embrace and nuzzled the baby-soft hair with his nose, inhaling deeply. 

 

Before he realized who he was pressed up against along with several other factors, a major one being that he was sporting impressive morning wood and that he was flush against Draco with  _ all  _ parts of his body. 

 

Slowly so as not to disturb Draco, he eased his hips back, loosening his arms around the slighter man, and he gained hope when Draco hardly stirred with the movement; hopes that were dashed when Draco held on to the arms around him and pulled Harry closer once more. 

 

“Mmm, five more minutes,” he murmured sleepily, pressing further into Harry’s embrace with another sigh of contentment. 

 

Harry was so tempted to give in and nuzzle the soft hair in front of him once more and allow the sweet lull of sleep to take him under once more but he was terrified that if he stayed, somehow, Draco would  _ know _ . He would feel Harry’s hesitance to remove his arms, or his affection in their proximity. Without the safety darkness provided Draco would see in the harsh light of day the love Harry worked so hard to keep within. He had to get out. 

 

Easing away, he gently untangled himself from Draco’s grasp, the latter grumbling in dissatisfaction. 

 

“Loo,” Harry murmured by way of explanation and lingered a moment longer beside the bed as Draco rolled over onto his pillow, curling into an adorable ball as he nosed Harry’s pillow. 

 

In the restroom, Harry splashed cool water on his face and examined his reflection, silently waging war with himself and his feelings. That was just the way Draco was, he reminded himself for about the thousandth time. 

 

But his traitorous mind whispered flickers of hope, things like the fact that Draco never took anyone home to their flat, or that he rarely spent what little free time with anyone other than Harry. 

 

Harry rolled his eyes at his reflection, grabbing his toothbrush and hoping that he could limit his thoughts about the past night. 

 

He was so fucked. 

 

…

 

Two months later and Draco was still sleeping in Harry’s bed at least once a week, often more. Everyday it was the same, Draco padding into his room late at night, complaining about a nightmare or something of the sort and would crawl into Harry’s bed without asking anymore, curling into Harry’s side where he remained for the duration of the night. 

 

As guilty as it made Harry feel, knowing that Draco wouldn’t be as physical with him if he knew how Harry felt, he had to admit that he never slept better than when he was with Draco. 

 

The nightmares came less often and when they did, he would wake up to Draco murmuring in his ear and stroking his face, gently bringing him out of it. They both had nightmares, for how could they not, but Harry knew they couldn’t hurt him. 

 

Draco had finally become a full Healer at St. Mungo’s while Harry had finished his Auror training at the ministry. 

 

He was working under Kingsley Shacklebolt and while he liked knowing he was making a difference and helping to stop the remaining deatheaters that had escaped or sprung up after the war, he hated leaving Draco everyday and the way his face would fall if Harry came home with a limp or bad bruise. 

 

Harry knew Draco enjoyed his job greatly, even though when he had double shifts he would come home exhausted, often too tired to eat a lot, which would worry Harry. But he was always there to take care of Draco, sending him to bed only when he had eaten a decent meal. 

 

Harry stumbled through the door just after 10 that night, having to stay late after a stake-out that lasted much longer than predicted. He had been eager to get home, knowing Draco would be worried even though he had sent a Patronus as soon as he could. 

 

Gently closing the door behind him so as not to awaken Draco, he turned as was met with the sight of the blonde hurtling toward him, knocking him against the door in something in between a hug and a tackle. 

 

“Harry,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around Harry’s torso as he sighed in relief. 

 

Harry winced at the pressure, gently squeezing Draco back for a moment before pulling the arms off of him. Wet eyes stared up at him worriedly. 

 

“Dray,” he whispered through clenched teeth. 

 

Harry saw the untouched mask of Healer Malfoy smooth across his face and he pulled away immediately. “Show me.” It was not a question. 

 

“It’s not that bad,” Harry insisted, “just a couple stunners,” he said, gesturing to his chest and stomach. 

 

“Harry James Potter, do  _ not _ make me immobilize you,” Draco threatened, and he had done it before. 

 

Sighing, Harry gingerly removed his shirt, revealing the bruising that had just begun, purple and blue and red splotches covering his chest and abdomen. 

 

Harry heard Draco suck in a breath and he couldn’t help wishing that he would make that noise under different circumstances. But that was not the case. 

 

“Harry,” Draco said again, this time without any of the sternness from a moment before, only worry and concern. “Let me help you lie down,” he said, leading Harry by the hand to Draco’s bedroom. 

 

With expert hands, he helped Harry get undressed to his pants and helped him lie on the bed. He carefully removed Harry’s glasses, who up until that point had forgotten he was wearing them, and Harry tried not to focus on Draco’s fingers at his temple, touch lingering on his cheek. Too soon the fingers were gone and Draco was looking over Harry’s chest. 

 

His gaze was clinical but Harry wanted to believe his touch was not. His eyes swept across the bruising but his fingertips trailed where his eyes went, touching so lightly that Harry almost couldn’t feel it, skin raising with goosebumps. 

 

Draco drew his wand and murmured a few incantations under his breath, wand moving with practiced ease. Harry felt his magic pulse through him, soothing yet alive in a way that was entirely Draco, and Harry closed his eyes as he allowed the calm to wash through him. 

 

“That should help with the pain,” Draco said quietly, fingertips on Harry’s bare chest for half a moment longer before trailing to his cheek, and then his hair. He smoothed the messy locks tenderly away from Harry’s forehead before removing his hand and his lips replaced it. 

 

They brushed against Harry’s forehead for an eternity that would never be long enough before Draco was standing, pulling the comforter over Harry’s body and changing into his sleep pants. Then, he crawled into the bed with Harry, careful to keep some distance so as not to touch his wounds. 

 

Carefully, Harry began to shift closer, finding that Malfoy’s magic had done wonders and felt next to nothing of the bruises. 

 

“Don’t do that, you might injure yourself further,” Draco said, rolling onto his side to face Harry and moving closer so that Harry would not. 

 

Gingerly, Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and curled around Harry’s arm like a child with a plush toy. 

 

Turning his head slightly, Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s hair and drifted to sleep. 

 

…

 

They ate a quiet supper at Ron and Hermione’s flat the following week, Harry enjoying the evening with his favorite people in the world. To his surprise, Hermione and Draco really hit it off, Hermione already having become close friends with Pansy who worked near her in the ministry. 

 

They spent a large portion of the evening talking animatedly about some new potion that was being pushed for legalization that would supposedly protect one from all forms of magical seduction, mind control, and the like. They were still working out the kinks but according to Hermione, its prospects were good. 

 

Harry watched with a small smile on his face as Draco talked and as he grew more excited, he would use his hands more and more, nearly hitting Harry a couple of times. Fuck, the man was adorable. 

 

Mid-sentence about some other drug that Harry had long since lost track of, too immersed with watching Draco’s movements and the way his face would light up every time he talked about something he was passionate about, Harry was startled by a pressure on his thigh, glancing down to realize it was Draco’s hand, thumb gently stroking Harry’s knee. 

 

Harry picked up his glass to hide his smile, his other hand reaching down and interlacing his fingers with Draco’s. 

 

…

 

The next morning, Harry walked into Kingsley's office with a skip in his step and a grin he constantly had to force down. 

 

Kingsley handed him a folder and briefed him on the wizard who had killed two muggle borns in the past week and was quickly devolving. 

 

“We intercepted an owl from a friend saying to meet him at the docks at 7, where you, Robards, and Weasley will be to arrest them.”

 

Harry nodded, flipping through the papers before standing. 

 

“Good luck, Potter.”

 

…

 

Harry should have seen the spell coming. Either that or he should have reacted faster. 

 

The two murderers had split up as soon as Robards fired the first spell, and he had run after the more frightened of the two, leaving Ron and Harry with the other. 

 

“Stupify!”

 

“Expelliarmus!” Ron and Harry fired spell after spell until the man turned sharply to the left, dashing down an alley. It seemed they had cornered him. 

 

Cautiously, they rounded the corner and a stunner was hastily cast at them and easily deflected. Ron approached, knowing the other man was beat, and began to cast an immobilizing spell when the death eater spat words Harry had never heard before, and a deep purple light erupted from his wand, streaking toward Ron. 

 

Harry’s shield spell instantly protected Ron, but it was hastily cast and the foreign spell deflected off, hitting Harry squarely in the chest before he had time to process anything. 

 

The results were slow, fear curling the pit of Harry’s stomach as the edges of his vision went black and began closing in and Harry suddenly lost the ability to stand anymore. 

 

He was vaguely aware of Ron disarming the man and immobilizing him before calling to Robards but by then, Harry’s vision had blacked out entirely, his other senses numb to the world, the only feeling he could be aware of was the intense pain shooting through his chest, suffocating him slowly. 

 

He knew air was entering his lungs but there was no oxygen, not what he needed, just empty gas that hardly filled his collapsing lungs. 

 

The spell was nearly as painful as the Cruciatus but in a different way. While the Cruciatus seemed to singe every nerve ending in the body  _ over and over again _ , this spell held a different type of pain. A pain that was cold and hollow and that cut him off from everything surrounding him until there was nothing left but his clenching chest, unable to hear his friend calling his name, feel the hand in his own or the ground beneath him, see the blue eyes with great tears in them. 

 

…

 

Harry could tell he’d been asleep for a long time. He felt stiff like he hadn’t moved an inch in hours and his mouth tasted gross.

 

He was vaguely aware of a pressure in his hand, someone holding it no doubt, and hushed voices with worried overtones and he wanted to open his eyes, to let the people know that it will all be alright, but he couldn’t move. His eyes were sealed shut and he slowly sank back into the tempting depths of sleep. 

 

…

 

Harry thought he heard crying. It was hard to tell, it sounded like the small quiet sobs were being held back, perhaps physically with a hand but he couldn’t be sure. What he did know is that the sobs sounded like what true agony would be, how he sounded when he lost Sirius, Remus, Fred, and countless others. A sound of pure loss. 

 

He needed to stop the noise. 

 

He concentrated on trying to open his eyes and with great effort he squinted into the stark white room. As his eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he was able to make out Draco and Hermione at the end of the bed, Hermione consoling the crying Draco. 

 

He wanted to say so many things, to say that he was alright, that everything was alright, that nothing mattered as long as Draco stayed near him but instead his heart broke at seeing the tears rolling down Draco’s cheeks and knowing he was the reason they were there. 

 

He tried to speak but his voice had been unused for so long that he cleared his throat, about to try again, but both had already turned to him. 

 

“Harry,” Draco breathed, rushing to the bedside and squeezing one of his hands in both of his. The tears began to flow fresh on his face once more and Harry sucked in a rattling breath, squeezing Draco’s hands in his own. 

 

Draco gripped his hand tighter to the point of pain but Harry didn’t mind because quiet sobs were wracking Draco’s body and he would do anything to remove the pain from Draco’s eyes. 

 

“It’s alright,” he croaked out against his weak throat. “I’m alright, Dray.”

 

Hermione moved to the other side of the bed. “Ron’s on his way, he was out on a coffee run but he’ll be back in a moment. Harry… we thought we’d lost you,” she said, gingerly placing her hand on his forearm.

 

“It wouldn’t be our lives if one of us wasn’t close to death every once in a while,” Harry tried to joke and was relieved when Hermione gave a small smile. 

 

“Well I’m glad you’re alright now. The Healers said… they said that chances were slim. They didn’t know the spell, and I looked Harry, I looked everywhere but there was nothing and then we were running out of time…” she trailed off, gnawing her lip with guilt. “I’m sorry, Harry, I’m sorry it was so close.”

 

By now Draco’s sobs had quieted but his eyes were still red and wet, on the verge of spilling over more but he seemed to be making an effort for Harry’s sake.

 

“I’ll forgive you… so long as you called the  _ Profit _ . The world needs to know that I’m now to be called the Boy who Lived three times.” He squeezed Draco’s hands again, giving Hermione a wry smile and was glad when she returned it. 

 

“I’ll go get your healer,” she said, squeezing his arm before exiting the room. 

 

…

 

St. Mungo’s allowed Harry to return home shortly after he awoke with the promise of no strenuous activity for two more weeks. 

 

Draco had taken off work for the week Harry had been unconscious and had made plans to do so for the two weeks Harry would be on house arrest, something Harry had told him was unnecessary but was grateful for nonetheless. 

 

The night they came home, Draco made a special dinner for Harry which the latter took great pleasure in watching him make it and that they enjoyed on the sofa watching one of the more recent  _ Bond _ films. 

 

When they had finished, Draco had helped Harry to his own bedroom, and as he began to leave after bidding him goodnight, Harry grasped his wrist and asked him to stay. 

 

Draco slid in next to him, a routine that was so normal yet the room felt so charged at the same time, filled with words unspoken. 

 

Harry rolled over, curling himself around Draco tightly, wrapped around with both his arms and a leg thrown over his body. Draco held him as well, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, blunt nails massaging his scalp in a way that very nearly put him to sleep.

 

“Harry?” Draco whispered, seeming to test if he was still awake.

 

“Mmm?” Harry hummed quietly, more comfortable than he had ever been. 

 

“Harry… I can’t lose you. I can’t. You were so close to being gone and--and I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Harry laid silently, tightening his arms around Draco instead of answering. 

 

“When you almost... I realized that I had to tell you, even though there’s a chance you’ll never look at me the same way. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, it’s the most important thing I have, but I almost lost you, and you never would have known how I feel and I… I’m in love with you.”

 

The words hung heavy in the air, Harry blinking slowly to himself before pinching himself harshly, the pain telling him that this was no dream. 

 

Draco opened his mouth, about to ask him to say something,  _ please _ , but Harry shook out of his stupor, leaning up and quickly closing the gap between them. He paused briefly, no more than an inch away from Draco’s face, giving him the time to back out if he needed to, to tell him that it wasn’t too late, but Draco remained where he was, lids hooded and eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth. 

 

Heart hammering in his ears, Harry closed the remaining space between them, fervently pressing his lips to Draco’s, feeling the firm softness as they yielded to Harry’s mouth almost immediately. 

 

Harry tangled his hands in Draco’s soft hair, pulling him ever closer to him. Draco nipped Harry’s bottom lip, emitting a gasp that Draco used to his advantage, tongue slipping into Harry’s mouth as he tried to taste every part of him that was available. 

 

“Dray,” he murmured against the other’s mouth as Draco moved up and straddled his hips, his hot length pressing into Harry’s through their pants. 

 

Draco moved down from Harry’s mouth, trailing searing kisses down his jaw before sucking hard at the hollow of Harry’s neck. Harry bucked and groaned, loving the heat and pressure on his cock that showed that Draco felt the same, that Draco wanted him just as much. Harry had the proof grinding against his own. 

 

Harry’s hands couldn’t stop moving, needing to feel every part of Draco’s delicious skin that was available after so long being forbidden. Draco removed his shirt before returning to sucking deliciously at Harry’s collarbone, each flick of his tongue sending electric shocks to his throbbing cock. 

 

He had never been this hard in his life and if Draco kept with the sucking and grinding he had no doubt he would come just with that. But he wanted more. 

 

He tugged at Draco’s hair, bringing his face back up to eye-level. Placing a quick kiss to Draco’s mouth because swollen lips and mussed hair was  _ such  _ a good look on him, Harry hooked his thumbs in the waist of Draco’s sleep pants. 

 

“These,” he mumbled against his mouth, continuing to kiss in between words, “need to come off.” Draco shifted his weight and helped him remove his pants and then Draco was magnificently, gloriously naked above him, pulsing cock bare against his thigh and trailing fluid. Harry’s mouth suddenly went dry. He wanted to  _ taste. _

 

Draco smirked as though he  _ knew _ how bloody good he looked before replacing his lips on Harry’s, this time slowing the kiss in a way that told Harry without words how special he was and how this was more than simply lust. 

 

Draco’s hands traveled down from the nape of Harry’s neck, brushing against his hardened nipples in a way that sent a rush of heat to his cock. 

 

Harry whined, deep in his throat at the sensation, and Draco smiled against his lips before moving along the path his hands had previously occupied, fastening his lips lightly around Harry’s nipple and giving it a harsh suck, and Harry squirmed beneath him. 

 

Soothing the swollen flesh, Draco laved it with his tongue before moving to the other side and giving it the same attention. Harry was hard and aching beneath him, desperate for him to touch the one place he seemed to be avoiding. Harry pushed at Draco’s chest, removing his pants when he had the space, and then began to sit up, wanting to trade positions so that he could finally fuck Draco. 

 

Draco stopped the motion, pressing a hand flat to Harry’s chest. 

 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said, concerned eyes searching Harry’s own. Harry opened his mouth to protest that he was fine but his words turned into a sharp gasp as Draco’s hand closed around Harry’s length, the feeling so much better than he could have expected. 

 

Draco kissed him hotly, tongue stroking Harry’s as his hand slowly pumped Harry’s cock. 

 

“Lube?” he mumbled against Harry’s mouth and Harry summoned as much concentration as he could with Draco’s lips around his ear lobe and his hand grasping at his throbbing cock to wandlessly  _ Accio  _ the bottle of lube he kept in the bedside table. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded like ‘show off,’ but with a smile on his face. Harry poured some of the slippery substance on his fingers and paused, unsure of what he ought to do next. 

 

Draco guided Harry’s hand to his entrance, urging him to his his fingers to open him up. Harry slowly probed one finger into the opening, worried he would hurt Draco going any faster. Draco was unbelievably tight, clenching around Harry’s finger as it explored deeper with his head thrown back, long column of his pale neck exposed. 

 

The tendons in his neck shifted and tensed as Harry added another finger and the Gryffindor couldn’t help but lick a long stripe up his neck, marveling at the movement beneath his tongue as Draco gasped and whined. 

 

Harry searched with his fingers until they located the bundle of nerves and he pressed against it over and over, enjoying the cries of pleasure as Draco gripped tightly to Harry’s hair. 

 

“Fuck, Harry, enough, enough, I want you  _ now, _ ” Draco cried out as Harry brushed against his prostate as he removed his fingers. 

 

Harry stroked up and down Draco’s thighs that still straddled him, trying to calm his firing nerves. 

 

“Harry,” Draco said, leaning in to place a tender kiss to Harry’s lips. “ _ Fuck me. _ ”

 

And Harry was gone. He poured more lube and coated himself before pressing between Draco’s legs, aligning himself with where he wanted to be.

 

Impatiently, Draco took Harry’s length in his hand and slowly slid down until he was fully seated, resting on Harry’s hips. 

 

A rush of air escaped through Harry’s teeth at the intense feeling of being inside something so tight and so wonderful, especially when it meant being connected to the person whom he loved. 

 

Overcome with emotion, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him to his chest and breathing into his hair as his hips began to move. Draco helped him, their movement slow and sure as they found their rhythm, and when Harry angled his thrusts slightly to the left, Draco let out a loud cry and Harry knew he had found it.

 

Soon the overwhelming heat and tightness grew to be too much and Harry felt his balls draw close to his body as his climax quickly approached. Their thrusts grew more frantic, each chasing their own release while looking intently into the other’s eyes, the contact and the vulnerability almost too much but Harry wouldn’t break it with a wand to his throat. 

 

Needing to see Draco fall apart for him, Harry grasped Draco’s length, dripping with precum and throbbing in his hand, and Draco’s back arched suddenly, his eyes closing as he threw his head back, a loud moan let loose through a gaping mouth. 

 

“Fuck,  _ Harry _ ,” Draco cried out as liquid pulsed into Harry’s hand. His name spilling from those luscious lips on the throes of an orgasm combined with the tightening and clenching around Harry was suddenly too much and not enough, and Harry thrusted wildly as deeply as he could, exploding within Draco with three smaller thrusts. 

 

They panted heavily, Draco resting his forehead on Harry’s as they breathed the same air, still joined in both body and soul. 

 

Harry stroked Draco’s cheek, slightly damp with perspiration before trailing his fingertips across Draco’s lips, marveling in the fact that the glorious man in front of him was his. 

 

“Dray,” he murmured, tenderly kissing the other’s lips, the frenzy of their lovemaking gone replaced with sated affection. 

 

Draco lifted himself slowly, wincing slightly as Harry slipped out, for which Harry apologized with a kiss to his temple. 

 

Draco laid down next to him, resting his head on the pillow while fixing Harry with a crooked grin. 

 

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into Harry’s touch. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he said, and Draco’s eyes flashed open, surprise mixed with joy welling in them. 

 

Draco curled into Harry, holding him tightly as they both drifted off to sleep. 

 

…

 

“Harry, you’re supposed to have a week off, why are you going back to a job that nearly gets you killed all the time. I thought you grew out of the schoolboy mentality of hurling yourself into danger constantly,” Draco said, his words heavy and severe but his tone only held worry. 

 

Harry stepped around the counter so that they were standing face to face before wrapping his arms around Draco, holding him tightly as he buried his face in his neck. 

 

“I don’t want you to leave me,” Draco murmured into Harry’s ear, grasping his shirt tightly as though afraid to let him go. 

 

“I’m never going to leave you, Dray,” he said, pulling back so that Draco could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I owled my two weeks notice to Kingsley this morning. I’m just doing some last paperwork and cleaning out my office.”

 

Tears that a moment ago had been of fear now spilled in relief as Draco hugged Harry tightly once more. “Thank Godric,” he said, pressing his lips fervently to Harry’s. Draco paused and pulled away for a moment and asked, “What will you do now, then?” 

 

Harry smiled and brushed Draco’s tears away with his thumb. “Headmistress McGonagall has requested that I take over as professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts this coming year. I’ve worked out a flat in Hogsmeade and… if you’re willing, I want you to come with me. You can floo to St. Mungo’s and then--then come home...to me.”

 

By way of answer, Draco kissed Harry passionately again, breaking apart for a moment so that he could whisper, “I love you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, this is unbetad so all mistakes are my own, if you catch any please don't hesitate to comment! Thanks so much!


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